Lycan's Affection
The Cure

Brandon gave another smile as he turned to Eleanor now. She only nodded, not sure why he seemed particularly happy. Not that she cared a lot about Esmeralda, but well, Brandon seemed almost ecstatic.

Some time passed, before the body was returned. As per Brandon's order, it was never brought in, and he went out himself to inspect it.

It was a sickly bluish green, half of the hair cast away, the eyes open wide in surprise. He nodded, taking in the face. Through the entire color of death painted across her face, he could still point out Esmeralda.

"It is she, alright. Bring me a messenger lycan to locate His Highness immediately."

A soldier nodded and bounded off, leaving the small group that had gathered around the body.

Eleanor watched from a few steps away, her eyes thin. Esmeralda was really gone, but she did not see a difference. Esmeralda had wanted Conaan, but never had Conaan even faltered in her direction. It was the sort of strength being loved by him gave her, and she gave a small smile, the butterflies settling im her chest.

Back at the largest county, Conaan stood by the window of one of his various holiday homes, his eyes squinted. The weather had changed. Considerably once he left those mountains, and he realized the sun was still setting out here.

His eyes darted to the scroll he had kept on the small table right next to him, and le let out a small sigh. He had not opened it yet, his fingers breaking into a cold sweat once he tried. He wouldn't lie he was scared to open it.

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Especially with Meredith gone now, he only felt a bigger weight. Did that mean there would be no cure? Or was the cure in the letter?

He swallowed, then grabbed it and slowly started to open it. He had barely gotten to the words when a knock came, and treacherously grateful for the interruption, he kept it away.

"Yes?"

"Your Highness, a messenger lycan has located us."

Conaan raised a brow. "What message does it have?"

The soldier walked in, his head slightly bowed as he handed Conaan the scroll. This one he found easy to open, and his eyes skimmed over the contents.

His expression didn't change much. He already knew she was dead.

"Quote me," he started, and the soldier immediately nodded. "Bundle her up and send her to her father. I will be returning myself by tomorrow."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Wait," Conaan said, clearing his throat a little. "Also...my regards to my queen."

The soldier nodded, knowing better than to say anything, and he walked away.

Conaan watched the sun darken, and he slowly, with a small, shaky breath, brought the letter back to him. It was still closed, and he swallowed, closing his eyes briefly. He opened it slowly, then let his eyes linger on the heading.

"To His Highness, Long live."

He thought it was ironic.

"If you ever get this letter, the moon goddess's will has been done upon all of us. You, faster than the rest of us."

His brow raised a little higher, and he swallowed.

"The very moment you found your mate, she has become the key to some of the most important parts of you and now, even your life. She is the key, but you have built the door for her already."

"A door..." He mumbled to himself, his brows furrowed darkly. "A key? That means..." He trailed off, then let his eyes go back to the last paragraph, hoping it would carry much clearer information. Much clearer directions.

"Eleanor may be the reason for your cure, but you, Your Highness are your own cure. Without you, a cure can never be found. Not just a cure, the woman who is to replace me too. They are all linked to you."

He closed the scroll, feeling his frustration heighten. It was all vague information, all information that felt like ancient parables or proverbs.

He pushed his hands through his hair, his chest swelling. He did not know what to think now. Was he going to get cured or...was he not going to get cured?

Back at the lycan palace, Brandon waited with a baited breath for the return of the messenger.

Eleanor waited with him too, her chest swelling with the prospect of hearing something from Conaan, no matter how little. It would help her miss him a little less, that much, she knew.

She turned to Brandon. "How do these messengers work?"

Brandon shrugged. "They are spirit lycans. Most of them are designed to only sniff His Majesty, but with a cloth carrying the scent of a person, they can locate him anywhere."

"So they are spirits. That is why they are so fast."

He nodded, then turned back to the entrance. He could see a soldier returning, and he straightened, his smile threatening to break his face in two.

"He has returned."

Eleanor straightened too, eagerness in the way she tapped her fingers on her arm, her breath held in her throat.

"His Highness has sent a message back," The soldier said, a little breathless as he finally got to them.

"Go on."

"He said; Bundle her up and send her to her father."

Eleanor struggled to hold the laughter, but Brandon gave a small laugh.

"I wouldn't expect any less. Did he say anything else?"

The soldier nodded. "He said; I will be coming back myself by tomorrow and...my regards to my queen."

Eleanor felt the excitement rip through her chest, her hand coming to cover her lips. It has been in her opinion, way too long to be apart, way too long without his scent, the silky feeling of his hair between her fingers as he took her lips.

"That calls for a celebration," Eleanor said, her smile big, the blush rising up her cheeks. "I will oversee it myself, Brandon."

Brandon smiled back as she walked away, and he gave a small sigh. Would he have found the cure already? Had Meredith, maybe, been able to ensure Conaan's life?

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